


Hive

by Cassplay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alien Invasion, Dark Harry, Female Harry Potter, Hive Mind, Mutation, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 03:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17317004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassplay/pseuds/Cassplay
Summary: When a meteorite touches down at Privett Drive, a single cell remains. It burrows into Fern Potter. She will never be kept in the dark again.





	Hive

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, there's not enough 'creature' fem-harry fics that don't focus on M/F romance, so here's one without any.

Fern Potter had always felt apart from those around her. There were many reasons for this, one of them was that she didn’t know her name until she went to school. Up until then she had always been referred to as some variation of ‘girl’, or other distinctly ruder titles.

There was also the fact that whenever she tried to tell someone about how her aunt, uncle, and cousin treated her, they might say they were going to try and talk to someone and get some help, but they always came back insisting that nothing was wrong.

Fern thought she had figured out why she was different on her eleventh birthday, when the half giant Hagrid had burst through the door into the shack on that hut on the rock partway out to sea, He had told her she was a witch.

But when she arrived at Hogwarts school, she felt just as apart from everyone as during her first few years of schooling. She tried to convince herself it was just an effect of being the ‘girl-who-lived’, but she couldn’t lie to herself. The few friendships she had managed to scrape together seemed to have waned in the lead up to her fifth year.

Just a month ago the wizard who killed Lily and James Potter, along with countless others, had returned from a ghostly half-life. She had been sent back to her aunt, uncle, and cousin’s house. None of their letters seemed to say anything, in fact, most of them were deliberately evasive.

She was trying any way she could to get even a scrap of news. But with the papers, and the ministry of magic choosing not to believe that Voldemort was back, it was dreadfully slow going. She had barely managed to worm out of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger that they were somewhere together, and that somewhere was where things were happening.

She wasn’t concerned about that at the moment her life changed. She was asleep. If she wasn’t, she might have noticed the light in the sky outside her window. A shooting star, burning up in the atmosphere. It’s passengers something that had never set foot on earth before, and dying from the fiery re-entry.

It touched down on the opposite side of the house, smashing into a shiny new company car that Fern’s uncle had picked up from the dealership the day before. The meteorite was dead in its entirety.

A single cell, floating on the air currents from the meteor’s descent had detached at the last second. But that was all that was needed. It floated, entirely without personality or consciousness, through the open window of a vulnerable and lonely Fern. It lodged itself into her right arm, immediately burrowing deep and beginning to replicate using tissue in her arm.

Fern would notice the rash in the morning, but it was after a week that she became concerned. She examined herself in the mirror. The skin around the rash had become flaky and dry. Brown/green veins were snaking their way back to her chest and heart. She tried telling her ‘friends’ about it. But they didn’t respond, just told her to sit tight.

It was about a fortnight since the meteorite had been taken away by government workers. Fern was becoming alarmed. She woke to some sort of pustule forming on her arm, where the rash had first been. She had been suffering headaches and twinges in her heart for a few days now. She felt slimy all over, but no matter how long she took showers for, it just felt like it wouldn’t help.

A cloud of amber descended over her vision one day. She felt something twitch in the pustule. She decided not to tell anyone from the order when they came to get her that night. This was a secret. It was in the bathroom at number twelve Grimmauld place that the pustule burst. The amber coloured, egg-white-like liquid drained into the sink from the small hollow in her arm. She both stood there, looking down at the mite that left her arm, and crawled out of the arm, looking up at herself. There was a knock at the door and Fern pulled her sleeve down, the mite holding onto her skin.

She was both herself and the mite. Knew what the other was doing and yet, was also doing them. She had stopped gaping in horror at the progress of this mutation, and now appraised it like it was a some macabre herbology project.

After some nervousness at the possibility of it being caught, she manoeuvred the mite under the table during one of the Order meetings. She heard everything.

Fern examined herself the day before returning to school. The veins were beginning to creep up her neck, and she had taken to wearing scarves. Her right arm was covered in a hard carapace. The pustule had healed over and begun reforming.

Deliberately antagonising the new ministry appointed defence teacher may not have been the smartest thing she had ever done, but it was far more than just childish stubbornness that lead her to the detention. Umbridge was puzzled at the dark red ink on her page, but she let Fern leave eventually. She was completely unaware of the mite that had burrowed into the underside of her wooden desk.

The mite in Grimmauld place stayed in place, and once they thought the ‘kids’ were back at school they became much laxer in security. Fern knew everything that they did. They wouldn’t keep her in the dark this time.

The pustule in her arm had receded, replaced by many more around her stomach. All of them hidden beneath a layered carapace. She had taken to wearing a knit hat as well as her scarf to hide her thinning hair. Hair was unnecessary, but stealth was. Her yellow eyes were now too obvious to hide, so she charmed the lenses of her glasses darker.

Fern woke one day to teeth scattered around her bed. She ran her long tongue along her new fangs and smiled.

She hadn’t exactly forgiven Ron and Hermione, and was avoiding them where she could. But it was Ron that was the first to notice her changes. They were walking back from divination one day when he grabbed her right arm. He insisted they go to the hospital wing. She had rather hoped no one would notice, but it was no matter; he made excellent biological material, and no body was ever recovered.

Fern knew about Umbridge gaining the post of ‘Hogwarts High Inquisitor’ before Dumbledore did. While she cared not for the teachers being assessed, she was concerned about the increased order being implemented. She hoped they wouldn’t be performing inspections of the sleeping chambers, lest they find the nest of eggs growing under her bed.

She refused Hermione’s suggestion of a defence tutoring club, she had more important things to do. She quit the Quidditch team too.

Fern ventured down to the Chamber of Secrets. It was the perfect place to build a larger nest. What was left of the basilisk provided the template for a new type of drone, a serpent-like wyrm.

She wrapped her face in a scarf and wore a hood to hide the discolouration around her face. Gloves hid her new claws. She stopped attending meals, instead relying on wyrms to bring her original body rats. The population of the castle had exploded now there was no longer a snake living in the basement.

When Hagrid returned and started teaching classes she was pleased. His more dangerous tastes would make fine additions to her hive. The ability of Thestrals intrigued her, but she was far more excited when the wyrms searching the forest managed to find a survivor of the previous year’s Blast-ended Skrewts. The crabs resulting from the union of their essences could shoot a jet of fire ten feet, and become invisible when they stayed still.

When she was due to leave over Christmas break, she instead moved down to the Chamber. It wouldn’t do to be away from the hive for so long. She shed not only her scarves, but her skin itself. She felt her heart stop as it was replaced with an organ more specialised to her new form. Trachea opened between her hard carapace plates. She felt the last vestiges of her magical ability fade.

Her eyes up in the school stayed open. Even if the Order had thought she was down here, they couldn’t get into the Chamber. With what was left of her original essence she constructed a body double and sent it to act in her place. Through it she told them how she had been abducted on the platform by Death Eaters, and that Voldemort performed a ritual to sap her of her magic.

Snape did not know of the ritual, nor did he know of the mite that he carried right into Malfoy Manor when he tried to find out about it. Soon it had set up a small nest in the attic and began producing more mites, even some wyrms. She learned many things from the exercise, including the existence of certain items.

Her double made an excuse one day to go to Diagon Alley, dropping off a small team of wyrms that slid into the bowels of Gringotts bank. They found the vault she had heard in Malfoy manor and waved their thing bodies across the lock. As Griphook had said in her first year they were sucked into it. The wyrms slunk up the pile of treasure and sunk their basilisk venom filled fangs into the small cup. After confirming that the cup was thoroughly destroyed, they moved into a corner and curled up, content to wait.

Her double found a locket at Grimmauld place. A wyrm slid out of her and destroyed it. Everyone seemed to call her double Fern, and she agreed that the name suited it; she certainly wasn’t Fern anymore.

Through Fern’s eyes she observed the sacking of professor Trelawney. A mite accompanied her as she journeyed across the countryside, looking for work. Something about her seer ability must have been correct, as she eventually found her way to the muggle village of Little Hangleton. The mite ditched her and made its way over to the small hut where the Gaunts had lived. The mite mutated itself into a wyrm, and made its way into the hut, destroying the ring inside.

Only a few more remained. She ventured out into the school herself to retrieve the one hidden there. It was strange, she found herself drawn to it. Her scar gave a stab of pain. That wouldn’t do. She destroyed the crown with her own venom and began working on a new humanoid body. When she began to see through its eyes also, she tore her old body to pieces, letting the physical matter be recycled into the hive around her.

The Weasley twins made their exit from the school and the students rebelled. She ignored them and found the giant in the forest, combined its essence with that of a centaur to create a new behemoth. She altered the wyrms too, and they grew large. Fern brought her a bat from one of the potion classes, combined with a doxy it made adequate flying vermin.

She took several of the students in green from the school above. Their parents were dead already, killed in Malfoy manor as struck quietly with the new, larger wyrms, and crabs. As was the snake that lived there with Voldemort. The students provided excellent biomatter for creating a new, larger creature. A mere earthworm became much more under the mutations in her hive.

She saw through Fern’s eyes that Umbridge had captured her and several others. Somehow the defence teacher’s antics convinced the others that they needed to go to the ministry. Fern went with them, while the Hive followed the newly dug tunnel into the Department of Mysteries.

Fern faced down Voldemort in the Ministry Atrium. Fern played her part well, neither Voldemort or Dumbledore knew what was happening when she thrust her bladed arm through the chest of her double. Wyrms snaked their way out from the fireplaces around the room. A Behemoth smashed its way through the wall, and crabs exited their camouflage around them.

“The floors below are dead.” She said. “I am the Hive.”


End file.
